


When the Shadow Smiled

by wyr_d



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Demons, Gen, Reader-Insert, Shadow Walker - Freeform, Vampires, Werewolves, but im proud of it, i don't know why im uploading this, its very old
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8437186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyr_d/pseuds/wyr_d
Summary: You had seen him one time before - only once had you seen the man who had brought misfortune into your life. When you had first laid eyes on him you had vowed to be no part of his life nor did you wish to be involved with him, but evidently he had other plans. He was a demon, a devil in disguise and, above all else, he was dangerous. He knew things about you that you did not even know about yourself and he pulled those things forward - whether you wanted him to or not. He was mounting for war and was going to drag you down into his villainous schemes - into the underworld of despair. Into his dark and deadly world because that was where you belonged - wasn't it?





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I've touched this story, but I thought I ought to share it here too since I've just rekindled this dying flame.

**i.**

 

_You had seen him one time before - only once had you seen the man who had brought misfortune into your life. When you had first laid eyes on him you had vowed to be no part of his life nor did you wish to be involved with him, but evidently he had other plans._

_He was a demon, a devil in disguise and, above all else, he was dangerous. He knew things about you that you did not even know about yourself and he pulled those things forward - whether you wanted him to or not._

_He was mounting for war and was going to drag you down into his villainous schemes - into the underworld of despair. Into his dark and deadly world because that was where you belonged - wasn't it?_

\----

You entered like a whirlwind.

It wasn't like the glorious entrances you read about in books or saw in movies, no it was plainer and a thousand times less glamorous. The bitter October wind dodged your footsteps and lingered about your double-breasted coat jacket - tickling the edges of the fabric. A few rogue leaves scattered in your wake, swirling about on the floor before you closed the door; the patrons of Rizzoli's grimaced at the cold that nipped at their seated figures.

As it seemed, Jaclyn was the hostess tonight. She wore the all black uniform required of the waitressing staff of Rizzoli's and she seemed to shimmer in the low-light that greeted you upon your arrival. Her natural beauty was one to be admired by all and by heavens you knew of the men who flocked to her and attempted to woo a girl of such stunning glamour.

You, on the other hand, were as plain as toast - or that's how you liked to put it. Boring and bland _____. You were nothing to look at and you had been told that many times by countless people, but it was not that you really minded. The destiny of plainness that awaited you was something that you had embraced years ago and instead of moping about it you had accepted the life given to you - no one could change the fates.

You brushed a stray strand of (h/c) (h/l) hair out of your (e/c) eyes as you befitted Jaclyn with your trademark smile. The one thing about you that stood in stark contrast to your bland appearance was your smile. Smiling seemed to be something you did constantly, but never once was your smile insincere. You always hoped you could lift someone's spirits with a friendly face and a good bout of hearty jokes and sarcasm.

She smiled back at you - perfect orthodontist orchestrated teeth glimmering in the light - as she casually flipped her auburn hair off her shoulder. Not skipping a beat, she slid a small stack of menus in your direction and leaned on the table - staring directly into your (e/c) eyes.

"You are here early!" she commented happily. "Since you are, can you take these menus to the back? Boss just fixed the meal list today and these haven't been edited yet!"

You shot a mischievous smile in Jaclyn's direction as she slid the menus across the small hostess table towards you.

"Boss decided to add another ' _meraviglioso_ *' meal to the menu?" you asked curiously.

"Always does." Jaclyn replied with a conspiring wink.

The two of you shared a small snicker at your boss' expense before you bid your colleague ado and made your way to the back to put down your coat. You slipped past the patrons you would soon be serving; smiling at anyone who made eye contact with you. Many of the regulars tipped their heads in your direction and soon you struck forth conversation with the numerous people who often chose Rizzoli's as their Friday night dinner destination. Mr. Massimiliano's tomato plants were budding, Ms. Capriccio recently bought a new car, and the Percutio family was visiting Rome this month.

You weaved your way sinuously past the tables, wearing a smile the whole way. Your numerous years of working at this fine Italian restaurant had made you familiar with the customers and the staff. Some joked your heart was made of Rizzoli's pasta! The statement sounded rather absurd, but you wore that badge with pride - in truth you did love Rizzoli's very much. The jet black swinging doors that led to the back kitchen quickly came into view, but your swift promenade to the kitchens was halted by your co-worker Bellisa. The thin, blonde, and tan woman stepped into your view before you had a chance to even process what was happening.

"_____, thank goodness you are here! I need a break so badly, like seriously, why does the boss think I can work for like three hours without a decent coffee break." Bellisa commented while giving her brown eyes a roll.

You smiled awkwardly, but inwardly you despised how much Bellisa continued to complain about how much work she had to do. If anything, you worked harder than her, but you never breathed a word of complaining to anyone. Knowing Bellisa, her Starbucks addiction was already setting in and she was in dire need of a caramel macchiato or something.

"So can you take over right now or....?" the blonde questioned, snapping you out of your reverie.

"Um, yeah I guess, but only if you can take my coat and these menus to the back for me."

Bellisa nodded feverishly and you dumped the menus into her hands then proceeded to quickly unbutton your coat so you could hand it off to her. The blonde took your coat with one manicured hand and handed off her waitress pad to you.

"Thanks _____, you are a doll." Bellisa commented while flashing you a pleased smile.

"Don't mention it, now who were you about to serve next?" you asked curiously looking around to see which table in Bellisa's area had yet to be served food.

"Oh, that man over there by the back. I was just about to get his order."

Bellisa pointed a gorgeous fingernail in the direction of a man about your age who was, at the moment, scowling at you.

"He seems nice." you stated dryly.

"Doesn't he though?" Bellisa said, rolling right over your sarcasm.

"Alright, I shall deal with him next then. Thanks Bellisa, enjoy your break."

"Of course, love. Toodles."

The blonde waved a hand at you absentmindedly as she strutted towards the kitchen, your coat over her arm and the menus balancing on top of it. Glancing over at your next customer, you found him still glaring daggers in your direction. Taking a deep breath, you made your way to his table - it was one that sat in the farthest corner of the dining room. His table was secluded by shadow; you could not help but feel this ominous and slightly discerning. Upon stepping up to where he was seated, you placed a smile on your lips and readied yourself for whatever was to come.

"Good evening sir, might I take your order?" you asked in your most polite tones.

The man, who had stopped glaring at you upon realising you were making your way to his table, slowly lifted his eyes to glance at your form before grunting in response and returning his attention to the menu. He moved with such fluid and precise movements you wondered if he was someone rich or even famous. Or maybe he was from the army, you thought to yourself - that made more sense really.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, you coughed into your hand and were successful in gaining your customer's attention. He raised a delicate, auburn eyebrow and he fully gazed at you. Your smile turned slightly deadly as you both stared at each other. You took this chance to examine the man who would most likely cause you a lot of annoyance this evening.

Short and somewhat unruly auburn hair decorated his head - curling and resting in odd directions as if it was trying to escape his presence - an old fashioned Italian brigade hat sat upon his head, it was historically accurate down to the last detail. A curl - defying all gravity - stuck out from the right side of his head and no matter which direction he moved the curl seemed to continue to reach for the ceiling above.

His eyes were a curious red color that bore hints of brown lingering inside of them – marbled like an opal or a precious stone. He sat lazily in his chair, as if this restaurant was neither worth his time nor his patronage and you could sense a calculating air about him. The clothes he wore were clean and pressed - looking subtle - but you could instantly tell they were brand name and Italian brand name at that. Part of you wanted to think that this man had flown all the way to Milan itself to purchase the clothes he wore, they certainly looked expensive enough.

Underneath the layers of his clothing, you knew he bared a strong physique as whenever he moved, his muscles became apparent. Your eyes returned to his face. He was devilishly handsome, like a man from a movie or a book who played the troublesome man that seduced the heroine. One thing was for sure, he was trouble and you wanted nothing to do with him.

"Are you ready to order sir?" you questioned, drawing yourself out of your calculating examination.

Instead of ignoring you, this time the man gave you his full attention - albeit he moved slower than molasses.

" _Si_ , I am ready to order _ragazza._ " he replied, Italian accent thick in his speech.

Part of you was shocked at the lilting accent rich in his voice, but the other part found this Italian heritage he must possess natural - after all he was wearing Italian brand clothes and an Italian brigade hat.

"Alright, what would you like to order?"

You poised your pen, ready to take down the name of the dish he requested.

"Hmm, I was thinking the Rizzoli's house pasta special."

"Good choice, good choice. Anything to go with that?"

To your luck, it seemed this man was not going to be too problematic after all.

"Si, some vino would be nice."

The man was now reclined in his chair, staring at you bemusedly.

"Okay, wine it is! Anything else?"

"Hmm, oh yes. How foolish of _mio_. I was hoping to have something special in my pasta sauce. That is not a problem, _si_?"

"No, not a problem at all, as long as the cooks have this ingredient you request."

"Oh _si_ , you have this ingredient, lots of it."

"Hmm, is that so? Well then, what ingredient could this be?"

You raised your eyebrow at him now, looking over the edge of your waitress pad bemusedly.

" _Sangue_."

You blanched at him. Did he really just ask for blood on his pasta? Was he serious? He could not have been serious. You supposed he was just hoping to get a startled or flustered reaction out of you - well you weren't going to play that game. A bark of laughter escaped your lips.

"Ha! I am sorry, but we cannot accommodate that request sir. I'll go put your order in now."

Turning fluidly, you stalked off to the kitchens to give the cooks his order before he had a chance to do anything else that was stupid or mocking. You pushed open the jet black kitchen doors and savored the scent of pesto and tomatoes - tonight was going to be long and you knew it.

\----

Business had picked up.

Almost instantly, the night had become a swirling mass of patrons and meals. You had been on your feet for the few hours now, but the night was still young and Rizzoli's was almost completely full. Pasta dish after pasta dish had been served and right now you felt like sitting down to catch your breath.

One thing that hadn't changed over the hours was the presence of your annoying friend, Mr. Italian man who sat in the back corner. He kept ordering glasses of wine and you had watched him down each one casually, as if drunkenness was an ailment that could not touch him. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could catch him scowling at you or staring seductively at one of the other waitresses. As it seemed he was vying for female attention, but you certainly were not what he considered 'worth his time.'

Not that this particularly bugged you.

Actually, you found the unfolding of his actions rather amusing. Both Bellisa, who had ended up being forced by your boss to take your usual area, and Jaclyn had been flirting shamelessly with your little Italian friend. Some of the male waiters had been more than a little annoyed with this man's shameless flirting and stunning looks that they had formed a small posse united against him. Most of the other waitresses had been giving the Italian soppy looks, but only Jaclyn and Bellisa had been gaining his full attention. It seemed that you were the only one immune to his insane good looks - or at least that is what Jaclyn had been calling them.

Even your boss had come out to catch a glimpse of the rumored gorgeous customer and he had been amused to say the least. Old man Rizzoli had shook his head upon seeing the man and had muttered some words in Italian that you were unable to comprehend - albeit being that you had been learning Italian for three years now. Now, as you were setting another glass of wine down in front of him, you decided to ask him if he wanted anything else. This man's actions were striking you as odd; he had finished his meal a long time ago so why wasn't he leaving? Was he going to dine and dash?

"Would you like anything else?" you asked patiently.

"No."

Okay, this was starting to get annoying. Without much warning, you slammed your hands down on the table and looked your Italian customer straight in the eyes.

"How long do you plan on staying here?" you asked in an angry whisper.

"What do you mean? I am a paying customer. Shouldn't I be allowed to stay as long as I want?" he whispered back, taking a sip of his wine.

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Sure, but the thing is you haven't actually paid for anything. You've drank more wine than a drunkard would, heck, more wine than a drunkard could afford! I am not one to unnecessarily worry, but I fear you wish to dine and dash. Unless you can prove to me that you have enough money to pay for what you have ordered."

Slowly, he turned to look at you. Finally, you had grabbed his attention.

"Oh _mio Dio ragazza_ , you certainly like to become flustered over small things, _si_?"

"Excuse me?"

With a sigh, he pulled out a thick wad of bills, but he did not wave them about like a rich man would - it seemed he had some sort of street smarts bred into him.

"Look _ragazza,_ I could buy this place with just my _spiccioli_ **, _si_?"

As much as you hated to admit that he was right, he did have quite a bit of money - a ridiculous amount really.

"Ah, okay, but at least stop flirting with the waitress'. It is distracting them from their work and you're making the men angry."

"Hmm, or maybe you are just jealous."

You snorted.

"As if. I have no interest in men like you. You probably take more time to do your hair in the morning than me and, frankly, I find that weird and vain. As it seems, you only care about yourself and nobody else."

With that, you floated away to another table that you had to serve. If you had thought you weren't getting a tip before from your Italian friend, you had confirmed that idea now. Frankly, you did not want to take money from that man. How did he come to get so much money? Was he a mafia boss or something?

As you shook your head at your absurd ideas, you did not notice the Italian man who was now watching you intently as he sipped his wine. You had finally gained his attention alright, but maybe not in the way you had intended.

\----

Finally it was closing time and Rizzoli's was just about empty. The last few patrons were grabbing their coats, thanking the staff and heading for the door. One person was lingering behind as you were finishing the cleaning of the tables, one person who had been lingering all night: the Italian customer.

You did not know his name so you had just been referring to him as the Italian - frankly, you did not want to know his name. That would mean you were one step closer to becoming friends or something of the like and you did not want that.

"Hey pal, it is time to go." said one of the beefier male waiters.

Out of the corner of your eyes you could see the Italian glance in your direction for a split second then size up the waiter. You held your breath. Would he leave? He let out a long sigh.

" _Va bene_ ***, I am going, I am going."

Now it was your turn to let out a long sigh. To your relief, he had paid in full for his drawn out meal, but his lingering was sort of freaking you out. You would probably find yourself feeling paranoid as you walked home tonight - you glanced at the kitchens door - good thing you carried mace in your coat pocket.

The closing of the restaurant door pulled you back to the real world. You moved to the final table you were to clean and of all ironies, it was the Italian's abandoned table. Muttering to yourself, you wiped down the table. He had left it relatively clean, only a few drops of wine here and there.

Clang.

You paused your wiping. When was the last time the table made a clanging noise when you cleaned it? You peered under the table wondering if something had dropped. To your surprise something had fallen, but it was certainly something you hadn't seen before. An odd looking pendant was resting between two of the metal stands that help support the table. It must have made the clanging noise when it fell from the table and collided with the metal supports.

"Now what do we have here?" you murmured to yourself as you picked up the pendant.

It was the oddest looking thing. The beautiful golden metal was shaped into two serpents devouring each other's tales and a spider web of gold was suspended between the two snakes. In the dead center of the web was a faintly glowing red jewel that almost perfectly matched the Italian's eyes. How odd.

Turning the beautiful pendant over in your hands, you found an engraving on the back of the golden piece of jewellery.

" _Vivere è la notte del vampiro_?" You read aloud rather confused.

It took you a moment to decipher what the engraving meant.

"Living is the night of the vampire. What is that about?" you questioned.

Maybe the Italian patron was interested in occult stuff or something - it was a big trend now a days. Underneath the dainty Italian engraving was yet another engraving, but the words imprinted below were not some sort of Italian occult saying. It was a name.

"Luciano Vargas? Well I guess I get to know the name of the man who harassed me all night."

"I would not say I harassed you _ragazza_."

You jumped and let out a small squeal.

"When did you return? I did not even hear the door open!" you exclaimed as you turned to face the Italian man who had snuck up on you.

"You were lost in your own thoughts _ragazza_. Nothing I could do about that."

You both stared at each other for a few minutes before you pushed the pendant back into his hands.

" _Grazie ragazza_. I returned to retrieve it as I realized I had forgotten it."

"Well, you should take better care of your trinkets then." you mumbled to yourself as you turned to finish your table cleaning duties.

"Well _____ I should be going now, _si_."

You almost dropped your cleaning rag.

"How do you know my name?" you asked whirling around to face him again.

"Ha, you are funny _ragazza_." he smirked at you as he lazily put his hand in his pocket. "I picked up your name from that Bellisa waitress. Technically I should know your name, _si_? A good waitress is supposed to announce herself to her _avventore_ ****."

You flushed from embarrassment. He did have a point; you had forgotten to mention your name upon serving him and it was an important thing to do. You must have felt wary of this man from the start and for him to ask Bellisa for your name - that sounded very much like prying.

"Well, I guess I know your name now so we are even." you stated glancing at the pendant that was still in his hands.

The thought of the pendant caused you to pause.

"Do you like the occult or something?" you asked curiously.

His eyebrows drew into a frown.

"Whatever do you mean _ragazza_?" he asked.

"Well, um, your pendant is very interesting to say the least. Two serpents devouring each other's tails, a spider web, the odd red gem and the interesting engraving on the back. If I didn't know better I would think it was some old magic item."

His eyebrows raised just the slightest bit, but that was all the reaction you could see on his face.

"You are a funny _ragazza_. Si, I do enjoy the occult as you call it. Magical things do intrigue me greatly."

"Hmm, well at least that explains that." You glanced up at the clock. "Ah, I think it best for you to leave now. Mostly everyone has left by now or they are in the back finishing the cleaning so you should go before anyone sees you, okay?"

You started ushering him to the door hurriedly - not wanting the beefy waiter, Jean, to come back and find you talking to the man he had just kicked out.

" _Va bene ragazza_ , no need to push me - I can walk on my own."

"Sorry, sorry!" you said removing your hands from his back as he pushed his way out the door.

" _Ragazza_?" he asked just before the door closed.

" _Si_?"

You caught the glass door just before it closed and poked your head around it to get a better view of this Luciano Vargas man. He gazed into your (e/c) eyes for a second before planting a kiss on your lips.

You had never been kissed by a man before in your life and it was really a marvelous feeling. He pressed against you and you almost lost your grip on the door, but your brain was still working so you made sure not to let the glass door slip between your fingers. One of his hands was on the back of your head; the other was stroking your cheek tenderly. He tasted of iron and pasta - an odd mix.

The idea of being kissed by some Italian man who had been annoying you all evening wasn't really appealing to you, but you let him kiss you for a few seconds before you pushed him away in shock. His gloved hand was still stroking your cheek as he winked at you mischievously. The corners of his mouth upturned into a smile and white, pointed teeth twinkled at you in the dark.

"I have a love for magical things very much _ragazza_ ; don't you forget that, _si_?"

"S-si." you stuttered out.

You had to look away from the Italian man who was still watching you intently as he walked away. Trying to look busy, you glanced at the door you were still holding open and sighed as you tested the outside handle. It surely wasn't locked if Luciano had been able to come back in so you figured you would lock it now to make sure no other people could come barging into the restaurant.

To your shock, the door had been locked. Your eyebrows drew together into a frown. Then how did the Italian come back inside? Unless....no it couldn't be! You glanced up again, hoping to find him still walking down the street.

But he was gone.

\----

He watched her look around, startled, before she disappeared back inside the restaurant shaking her head. She was no stupid girl and could probably guess at what he was.

Good.

The curiosity and air of mystery he had cloaked himself in would draw her to him. She would come looking for him if she had the chance and, oh boy, he was going to give her the chance. He smirked to himself happily. He had been alive for thousands of years, but this game of cat and mouse always amused him.

Sliding his cellphone out of his pocket, he turned it on. Dialing the number he knew by heart, he waited for the response on the other side. A gruff German voice could be heard through the speakers.

" _Ciao_ Lutz, _si_ I found it. _Si_ , a shadow walker."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Italian Words:**
> 
> * = meraviglioso: wonderful
> 
> ** = spiccioli: pocket money
> 
> *** = Va bene: okay
> 
> **** = avventore: patron


	2. ii.

**ii.**

 

_Sometimes the fates can be forgiving and, in turn, sometimes they can be cruel. One minute they are laughing with you and then the next they are laughing at you. They cannot be controlled and move in mysterious ways; yet, some people try to fight them, some people attempt to change fate. It is hard, but it can be done._

_One of those people is an odd man who has been around long enough to know, to know about the fates. The slow turning of the wheel of life does not touch him and, to him, age is just a number, not a rule to live by. He's watched the world rise and fall, darkness roll in like a thick cloud and startling bright light dance along the road of the stars._

_He's learned from his mistakes, but not in the way you would assume. He's a rogue in even his homeland and a demon everywhere else. He doesn't know love – born into a world that hated him before it even knew his name. He only knows possession and power, so that is what he covets._

_Some call him an angel, some call him a devil, some refuse to mention his name, some shout it from the rooftops and some, only a small amount, know he wants to change the future. Rewind the clock of time, destroy what is and create what he believes should be. He has few friends and many allies; he rules the underworld – a twisted ruler on a throne of destruction, with a crown of blood on his head. He might have many names, but only a few know his real one. Upon saying his name, it is said you fall under his spell. And that name is:_

_Luciano Vargas._

\----

You awoke with a start.

Your breathing was heavy and you found the sheets you were laying in mangled and deformed from your haphazard tossing and turning. With tired eyes, you examined your surroundings to find them unfamiliar. Panic exploded through you and you threw off the sheets covering you with zeal.

Where, in the seven circles of hell, _were_ you!?

The walls of the room you were sleeping in were red and not just any sort of red, _blood_ red! As a matter of fact, just about everything in the room was either red, deep mahogany, black or gold. Nothing seemed familiar. No pictures sat on the nightstand or the chest of drawers, so you got no hints to identity of your kidnapper.

To your great luck, your clothes had not been touched and you knew nothing 'funny' had happened while you were asleep. But the real questions still remained, how did you get here and where were you? You sat down on the large four poster bed you had just been occupying – your hand touching your forehead as you tried to remember.

The memories you had been storing started slowly coming to back to you like a movie reel offered at a cinema. Snippets of yesterday afternoon permeated your mind and exploded across you vision in loud bursts of color and noise. You had just returned home when it happened. You had entered your tiny apartment's living room when someone had grabbed you from behind.

A warm hand, an odd smelling cloth, the scent of gentle cologne – these memories started haunting your thoughts. The slow descent into darkness as all the light slowly disappeared from your vision and your body giving way beneath you – hopelessness at its worst. You remembered someone whispered something into your ear before your mind completely blanked. The syllables were all mashed together in your head – only soft mumbling could be heard when you tried to play back the sound.

You glanced around nervously. _Escape, escape, escape, I must escape_ , you thought to yourself as panic fell away and desperation surfaced. Three ornate doors sat in the room and you quickly made your way to the one to your left. The gilded mahogany door twinkled at you in the lowlight and as you fiddled with the ornate, golden door handle, the less imposing mahogany door behind you clicked open.

As if struck by lightning, you leapt away from the door you had been fiddling with and tried to school your features into calm composure. You hadn't been sure what to expect when you turned around, but the figure standing in front of you was the last thing on your list you had expected to see. A petite, timid looking, raven haired woman blinked at you as she stood silhouetted in the door way. She smiled nervously at you before she closed the door behind her.

You paused to examine her. She was adorned in a maid's uniform and she reminded you of a doll. Her skin was ebony and flawless, unlike your scarred skin, and as your eyes met hers you noticed her eye color was a beautiful grey. She seemed to bare no hostility towards you and you could not help but release a tense sigh.

"Hello." you said, putting a gentle smile on your face – you figured acting calm would be the best way to assure your safety.

"Good morning milady." she replied with a bow.

"Oh please!" you exclaimed. "Don't call me that! Just call me _____."

You cursed yourself inwardly for giving away your name so freely, but then again, your kidnappers probably knew your name already.

"Okay _signorina_ ______."

You bit back a complaint and instead gave her a smile.

"What may I call you?" you asked patiently.

Her eyes widened and she stumbled over her response.

"F-Frieda, y-you can call m-me that. Pardon m-me _signorina_ _____, but nobody h-has ever asked me t-that before." the dainty raven haired girl replied in the smallest whisper.

"Well I am not like the others."

Frieda nodded, a faint sort of smile graced her lips, but it dropped instantly when she seemed to remember why she was here.

"I have come to collect you _signorina _______. You are to dine with the masters."

"The masters?"

"Yes, the masters. I cannot tell you who they are. I am not allowed, but if you follow me you can see who they are." Frieda stated, sounding as firm as she could.

She really seemed like a soft hearted girl, not evil in any way and that was probably why you ended up trusting her. Not to mention, you may be able to escape on the way to this dinner. While you were curious to see who these masters were, you had no interest in seeing how this evening would play out upon meeting them. Something about their title as masters sent a shiver down your spine – they were definitely bad news.

"Fine," you said with a sigh. "I shall come with you then."

Frieda smiled her petite smile at you as you stood slowly. You moved towards her and the door, but she stopped you with a gentle hand.

" _Perdono mi signorina_ ______, but you cannot dine with the masters looking as such." Frieda stated, gesturing to your rumpled and dirty clothes.

You frowned as you looked down at your now ruined work uniform. A sigh escaped your lips – if you ever escaped here Mister Rizzoli would be absolutely furious upon seeing how you had treated your sacred uniform. Smiling feebly, you returned your gaze to the lovely maid standing in front of you.

"Understood." you nodded. "Are you to help me change as well?"

You peered at Frieda curiously. From what you could tell, Frieda seemed to be a nice girl, but you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought that she would be dressing you.

"Mhmm it is my duty to help _signorina_ ______. Or so my masters tell me."

While Frieda wore a soft smile, you could tell there was fear lurking in that statement. Her fear confirmed your earlier worries about these masters. It was decided then, if you were given the chance you would escape. Frieda snapped out of her nervous mood within a split second.

"Come on, let's get a bath running." she said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards one of the two ornate doors you had yet to explore.

Panic started to rise in your throat. While you had been nervous about the fact that you might have to change in front of Frieda; the idea of being completely naked in front of her sent you into a frenzy of fear. It wasn't that you were bashful or shy, but more that you feared how she would react when she saw it. The tattoo.

Everyone reacted to it in a different way, but none of the reactions were by any means positive. Some people would shriek, others would make cross symbols with their fingers, some would fall silent and remain mute whenever they were around you, and – in the most extreme cases – they would faint. Over the years you had learned to get to locker rooms early or change later than everyone else, you knew to never go to swimming parties or to the beach with friends, and you never ever wore low back shirts or dresses.

You gritted your teeth as Frieda started running steaming water into the bath. The maid looked up from her task and glanced over at you, shooting you a soothing smile. Once the water filled one quarter of the expansive tub, Frieda added some rose scented soap and she waited until the bubbles covered the whole surface before nodding to you – your queue to change you figured. With trembling hands you slowly undid the buttons of your shirt – Frieda watching you tentatively as you did so.

"Um, if it bothers you that much _signorina_ , I can wait until you are in the tub before I come back to scrub your back and clean you properly."

You sent her a shaky smile – while she would still see the tattoo it at least got rid of the awkwardness that you felt.

"That would be preferred Frieda."

She nodded and left the bathroom -- shutting the heavy door closed with a clack. You could hear her footsteps stop not too far away from outside the closed door. Once in silence, you could not resist the urge to expel the breath you had been holding before you continued to unfasten the buttons of your shirt. Once you were completely undressed you stared at yourself in the mirror, your (e/c) eyes meeting your reflection in the glass, and examined yourself all over just to make sure there were no unfamiliar wounds that you could have missed upon waking. When you were finally content that no harm had come to you in the night, your gaze returned to your face and you hissed out another sigh; you hadn't viewed it in a while. 

You turned just the slightest to view your back properly. It sat in the middle of your back and expanded outwards like a ripple; black ink interwoven into your skin – something that had been part of you since as long as you could remember. You didn't have to look at it to know the design. The inverted cross in the center, the coils of ornate, gilded line work escaping from behind the cross, the spiders and serpents nestled in between the lines, and, right below where your neck began, there was the eye. The eye was the only part of the tattoo that had any color. The eye itself was colored a deep red and sometimes you swore it would glow faintly in the low-light, but that was probably just your mind playing tricks with you -- or so your mother used to assure you.

The tattoo itself encompassed your whole back, but the small coils of line work stretched themselves right around to your rib cage where they settled right under your breasts. You were very grateful the tattoo never touched your belly, but it was an annoying sight. Nobody knew where the tattoo had come from and when you asked your parents about it they had always fallen dead silent – of course you could not ask them about it now seeing as they were dead. They had been murdered in an incident five years ago, leaving you the heiress to their estate and fortunes – two things that you did not have access to thanks to their will's specifications.

You would gain the estate upon your nineteenth birthday, but that was about eight months away. For the time being you were living alone. You had lived with your ailing grandfather until he had to be moved to a care home one year ago; you still visited him on weekends. Despite you living alone, you figured someone would realize your disappearance soon. You never missed a shift at work unless you were terribly ill and you knew Jaclyn would check-up on you like she always did when you missed a shift; eventually your lack of response would prompt Jaclyn's worry. A sharp knock at the door shocked you out of your musings.

"Are you almost ready _signorina_?" asked Frieda through the door.

"O-oh yes!" you cried leaping towards the tub.

Just as you had lowered yourself under the cool water and bubbles, Frieda pushed the door open and greeted you with a back scrubber, some golden sandal like high heels, and a lovely fire red dress. Upon entering, Frieda carefully hung the dress on the hook on the back of the door and placed the shoes beneath the dress -- with no where else to look you found yourself admiring the gown from afar. The color was rather pretty and it would complement your eyes rather well you mused. Once everything was settled, Frieda glided across the tiled floor with silence that could match a ghost with her scrubber in hand – your anxiety mounting with each step.

" _Va bene_ , I will do your back first" Frieda stated, the scrubber poised for action.

"Mhmm." was the only sound that you could release.

You shifted in the water to show your back to her and the scrubber dropped against the cool tile with a mighty clang. Deathly silence followed. A sigh slipped between your lips – just as you had expected. You turned to face Frieda and you were shocked at what you saw. Her countenance were filled with horror. Never once in your life had you ever seen someone look at you with eyes full of both raw fear and horrified recognition. Of course, people had, upon seeing your tattoo, shrieked in fright – but they had all looked at you with pity and disgust. The tattoo had no meaning to them; to them it was just an ugly eyesore, but to Frieda it meant something and not something good.

There had been the few people, who had been scared and felt the need to flee from your presence, but there was never such unmasked horror in their eyes – it was as if Frieda had just discovered you were an ax murderer. With shaking hands Frieda picked up the scrubber and hastily mumbled her apologies as she started to wash your back. You said nothing as you were cleaned by Frieda; instead you pondered over her actions and prepared yourself for whatever else the evening would bring.

\----

The red dress fit you nicely. The bodice was decorated by glittering jewels of a gold color that shimmered in the low-lights of the expansive mansion you were being housed in. Stone silent, Frieda led you through the hallways and although you were not all over the fact she was now too terrified of you to look your way, you used that to your advantage and attempted to map out the floors you passed – figuring such information might be useful if you try to escape. To your surprise, the high heels you were wearing were rather comfortable – if you did need to run there would not be much of a problem as it seemed.

Your wish to make conversation with Frieda was strong, but one look at her face made you change your mind. She looked like a person who had been scared out of their wits. Her grey eyes refused to focus on you and her lips were drawn into a tight, unmoving line. The corridors were practically empty, with only the rare maid or servant passing every once and a while. You curled your hand into a fist to stop it from shaking as you worked out a plan in your head.

Frieda seemed to be desperately lost in her own thoughts, so much so she rarely glanced in your direction. You figured if you ducked down the next passing corridor she wouldn't notice and from there you would have to run like the wind. Nervousness coiled in your stomach as you put your plan into action and slipped down the corridor to your right – Frieda none the wiser. Quietly slipping out of your shoes, you took off down the hallway – running as if your life depended on it, and as far as you knew it did.

As your rounded the corner and fell out of Frieda's immediate view; you could hear a shriek as she obviously noticed you had fled. Smirking to yourself, you continued to run hoping to find some exit as you did. To your delight, you noticed a stairwell straight ahead of you and you picked up your pace – maybe you could manage this!

Bam!

All of your hopes were dashed as you collide into two men who were rounding the corner to your left. The three of you went tumbling to the ground and as you hurried to stand a strong hand gripped your wrist. Fear set in as you glanced up the arm of the person who was holding you in place. A pale, scarred man smirked at you with deadly eyes.

"Well, well, I guess this is the _Überraschung*_ he had mentioned." The man stated, his voice thickly coated with a German accent.

"Aha! There you are _signorina_!" cried a relieved Frieda.

You could hear the sounds of her feet moving across the floor towards where you were being held – she must have caught up. Your adrenaline faded and it was replaced by a bitter sense of futility.

It was all over.

\----

Frieda had helped you fix up your hair and step back into your shoes before dragging you back on the path towards the dining hall where this accursed dinner was to take place. The two men you had managed to stumble into were two of the three masters you were to meet. _Just my luck_ , you thought bitterly. Now there was no chance of your escape as Frieda was watching you closely despite her evident fear of you. Actually, if anything, the poor girl looked positively terrified now. When she had noticed who you had run into she had apologized profusely for her mistakes and it was obvious to you that these masters did not like slip ups as their eyes had twinkled deadly with anger upon discovering it was her fault for your escape.

The apparent fear Frieda had for these men made you wary of both of them, but that did not stop you from examining them as the four of you made you way towards the dining hall. The man who had taken a hold of your wrist earlier was tall and muscular. He wore a leather jacket that hung loosely on his frame; a pure white shirt winked at you from behind the open jacket and military dog tags shimmered and clinked as he shifted from foot to foot. Ripped jeans covered his legs and he wasn't wearing any shoes – which was an oddity in itself. If you had thought his lack of footwear was bizarre then his eyes were beyond weird. They were purple – a very suspicious purple at that. His hair was more or less normal though; a pale blond color that was slicked back atop his head. Every once and a while he would steal glances at you and when your eyes met his he would grin down at you toothily as if mocking you. Every time you frowned at him vehemently.

Where the other man was tall; the red eyed man was short. The shorter man wore a traditional Japanese war uniform that was pure black, only a few gold embellishments were sprinkled here and there. A samurai sword rested in a scabbard on his waist and he fingered the silken red hilt absentmindedly. Despite having red eyes, they were chillingly dead looking and he watched you with bored disinterest. The dark fringe of his bangs dangled dangerously close to his eyes and, despite the fact he wore a sort of bowl cut, you could not say his hair nor he was that unattractive. He seemed to be the silent type as you had not heard him utter a single word in the small span of time you had been with him.

Soon, the scents of food wafted in your direction and you could not help but feel the inklings of hunger tickle your stomach. While you were insatiably ravenous and wished for nothing more than to eat heartily, you still felt beyond nervous as you were unsure what to expect when you entered the dining hall. Finally, Frieda paused in front of some large wooden doors and swallowed nervously before pushing them open.

"Announcing, _signorina_ _______, Master Lutz Beilschmidt, and Master Kuro Honda." Frieda called, her voice wavering just the slightest.

As soon as you stepped into the room, you could feel your blood start boiling as your eyes fell upon the sight of a figure lounging casually in a dining chair.

"You!" you yelled angrily.

A coy smirk was shot at you over a wine glass. Twinkling red eyes met yours and auburn eyebrows raised as a certain Italian man drank in the view of you. His eyes studied you lazily and he ignored your rather abrupt comment – his attention was taken by your bodice. Thankfully, the dress you wore came up around your neck, covering your back and your chest nicely, but you still felt embarrassed as his gaze slid over you. He was studying you like you were some sort of rare precious gem.

" _Si ragazza_ , it's _mio_." he took a sip of his wine. "Do you not like what you see?"

You bit back a snarky response. If you were honest, he looked rather dashing. He wore a suit of liquid black that seemed to hug his figure in all the right ways and he knew it – he could probably be scrubbing the floors in that suit and still look handsome. A tie of the fiery red that matched your dress sat around his neck and a glass of blood red wine balanced precariously between his outstretched fingertips. His skin was still that smooth bronze color, his hair curled in its peculiar pattern, and the odd hat still was perched upon his head. It was as if you had only seen him yesterday – oh wait, you had.

"Why did you kidnap me?" you retorted, refusing to answer his pointless question.

"Hmm, ah well didn't I tell you I had interest in all magical things." he calmly replied.

You frowned. What the hell did that have to do with anything!?

"I am not a magical _thing_."

" _Al contrario**_."

The sound of someone snickering behind you caused a halt in whatever you wished to say to this annoying Italian.

"This one is ferocious, I like her." The German man behind you commented.

Luciano smirked over his wine glass and tipped it in the tall man's direction.

" _Benvenuto_ *** my friends." the Italian said with enthusiasm. "And I am glad you agree with my tastes, Lutz."

 _So the tall one was Lutz then_ , you thought to yourself. Your nervousness had fallen away and was now replaced by anger. The men behind you stepped around you and took their places at the table, but you refused to sit – if you sat Luciano would have won in some way.

"Can someone please tell me what is going on?" you huffed angrily.

The Italian man smirked at you as he swirled his blood red wine once again – his friends taking their seats quietly in the background.

"Sit and I will tell you."

"No."

"I will not tell you if you do not sit."

"Well I guess I will never know because I am not sitting." You crossed your arms across your chest in defiance. The red eyed man, Kuro was it, snickered. A dark shadow passed across Luciano's face and he stood up rather sharply – his peculiar eyes glittering with some sort of darkness. You did not flinch as he strode towards you, but you could hear Frieda let out a little yelp from where she stood by the door.

Once you were in the Italian's arm's reach, he grabbed your arm and dragged you over to his chair – you protested and tried to pull out of his iron grip, but he did not yield to your struggling. In one swift movement, the Italian man sat down and dragged you down on top of him – placing you in between your legs, a rather compromising position to say the least. He held you in place with his legs and placed his head on top of yours to keep you still – that did not stop you from sending curses at him through your clenched teeth.

Now both Kuro and Lutz were finding this amusing, their chuckles could be heard over your angry hissing. Luciano seemed to be enjoying your frustration as a low chuckle escaped his lips. You felt the tickle of his clothes as his diaphragm expanded in laughter; the cotton that caressed your back caused you to cease your angered cursing as you arched your back in an attempt to escape the awkward feeling. The warm brush of Luciano's breath engulfed your earlobe as he whispered into your ear.

"If you do not cease your cursing permanently _ragazza_ I will make your night hell."

His words caused your whole body to go rigid as a chill travelled down your spine; you knew he meant his words so you complied – albeit grudgingly. You fell silent in Luciano's grip and waited for someone to say something. You scanned the faces of Luciano's friends once again, this time you found both of them looking at you rather intently – it was as if you were a foreign anomaly to them.

"So _ragazza_ , since you are sitting so politely now, do you wish for _mio_ to tell you what is happening, hmm?"

"Yes." you hissed angrily – if you were stuck sitting like this you might as well get the answers you desire.

"Hmm, well _ragazza_ ," the Italian began, fingering your hair softly. " _mio_ and my _amici_ have been searching for a particular being."

"A shadow walker to be exact." Kuro said, his voice was soft and lilting, but a deadly edge lurked between his evenly pronounced syllables.

"And these shadow walkers are...elusive beings." Luciano continued. "They keep to themselves and are _molto_ **** hard to find."

"Probably because most of the species is extinct." added Lutz; his voice was rich and deep, but it gave you chills more than anything – not comforting in the least.

"And what do these shadow walkers look like." you interjected.

"They look more or less like humans, but they have one real defining feature." the Italian stated.

"Actually two Luciano, you of all people would know this." hissed Kuro.

"Ah _corretto_ *****, _mio_ mistake – Kuro is indeed right when he says there are two defining features." the Italian said correcting his mistake. You could hear him smirking behind you; it was as if he had left that second ability out just to annoy Kuro. "The first ability that you can test for is the possible shadow walker's ability to see magical items. Normal humans cannot see such things – when they gaze upon them they see a very bland item of little interest to them."

Your mind wandered back to when you had found Luciano's pendant. Nervousness was tying you stomach into the knots. The way they all looked at you sent fear rocketing to your very core; somewhere deep down you knew they were alluding to the fact that this shadow walker thing was you, but you wanted to reject such an idea. It was preposterous. Magical beings and objects didn't exist, they were just made up things that people created to amuse themselves with. If there was anything your parents had taught you, it was that.

"And the second defining feature is the tattoo they bear." Luciano stated, as your heart started to sink and fear started to rise. "It should be on their back and the larger the tattoo the stronger their power. Such a _benedetto_ ****** thing the tattoo is, many in the underworld dream to have it for it signifies such power."

You were numb. The large tattoo that encompassed your back – it couldn't be connected to this. No, you refused to believe this. You watched as Lutz's eyes sliced into the direction of Frieda by the door. She was shaking uncontrollably where she stood and you wondered why she had to be in the room – didn't she have duties to attend elsewhere?

"Frieda, when you washed this _m_ _ädchen_ did you see a tattoo? One that you recognized as magical?" the German man asked gruffly.

Ah so that's why she had to stay. She was the eyewitness. Rather than speaking, Frieda just did a curt nod and then quickly cast her gaze downwards as if not to offend the men in the room. A sly smirk broke out on Lutz's face, it was mirrored by Kuro and you assumed Luciano's lips were twisted in a matching way.

"Then you, _______, are a shadow walker." Kuro stated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **New Words:**
> 
> * = Überraschung : surprise
> 
> ** = Al contrario : Italian equivalent to Au Contraire.
> 
> *** = Benvenuto : Welcome
> 
> **** = molto : very
> 
> ***** = corretto : correct
> 
> ****** = benedetto : blessed


End file.
